Eragon, Schmeragon
by The Wuzzy
Summary: The Empire has fallen, and Galbatorix is defeated...but can Eragon find his soulmate, be it dwarf, elf or haystack? It's not very likely when you're surrounded by Urgals and fancy your brother! And why does Arya keep trying to get him in bed? Oneshot


**Eragon, Schmeragon**

"Erk!"

The last of Galbatorix's personal guard fell under Murtagh's blade. _Damn, I am good_, thought Murtagh to himself.

Galbatorix didn't really seem all that bothered by the turn of events, in fact he was his usual maniacal cackling self.

"Bwa ha hahaaaaa! I am evil and all powerful, and you, boy, shall never ever defeat me!" cackled the Emperor. "Bwa hahaha ha haaa - "

Murtagh ran Galbatorix through with his sword.

"Take that, you buttbrained, buttfaced, buttheaded son of a butthead!" he yelled.

"Bwa hahaha haaaa! Bwaaaaha ha ha…ha…" Galbatorix trailed off, and looked down at the three feet of steel emerging from his chest.

"Oh… Urgal-turds," he muttered, "and today was such a nice day too. I was looking forward to an afternoon of plotting evilly, cackling maniacally, and executing innocent villagers. I even had a date lined up for this evening." He looked at Murtagh, and tears began to well up in his eyes. "How could you do this to me?" he asked. Then he died.

Murtagh withdrew his sword with a nasty squelch, and glared at it until the blood fizzled and evaporated. _Hell yes._

"Is he gone?" squeaked Eragon, crawling out from where he'd been hiding under a cushion. He looked around at the carnage of dead bodies that entirely covered the throne room floor. "I'm guessing it's a yes?" he said weakly.

"Yup," said Murtagh, and began to sharpen the edge of his sword with his teeth. _Hot damn, I'm so badass,_ he thought.

Suddenly -

*CRASH*

"Arrggh-"

*squish*

- and a ten tonne blue winged dinosaur fell through the ceiling, so suddenly, in fact, that Murtagh almost nicked his blade with one of his molars.

The doors to the throne room slammed open and a whole bunch of the Varden, men, elves, dwarfs and Urgals poured in.

"Holy elf-shite Murty, you've been busy!" said Nasuada, trying not to trip over dead guards. "But where is Schmeragon hiding his sorry ass?"

"Here," squeaked Eragon from under Saphira's foot. "Please can you move off me?"

_No, not really,_ thought-spoke Saphira.

"I'll give you a selection box of roasted Elf-snacks!"

Saphira lifted her foot. Eragon scurried out, and a lithe, beautiful figure ran forward, in an outfit which appeared to have been ripped or burnt away in several crucial areas.

"Arya? Where've you been?"

Arya gracefully flipped her raven curtain of hair over her shapely shoulders and fixed him with a passionate smoulder.

"Oh Eragon my darling," she purred, running her hands slowly up his waist. "You know how I feel about you."

"Er, no I don't," said Eragon, more than a little confused. "You've been constantly rejecting me for the past four novels."

Arya laughed, the noise like a tinkling bell. An extremely irritating, high pitched bell. "Darling! You don't think that I really _meant_ all that. Do you?"

"Well, as a matter of fact - "

"Don't interrupt!" she snapped. "As I was saying…_you…_my little man…are manly, sexy, and have the body of a god. And now that Galbatorix is dead…we can finally be together. What's more," she leaned right in and breathed in his ear, "You have _no_ idea how good I am in bed. Our sex life is going to be _amazing."_

"Oh no you _di-_dn't, girlfriend!" Eragon shoved her away from him, disgusted. "You've been a callous, cold hearted, ungrateful bitch to me from the day we met, and now that I've won back the kingdom, you're suddenly crawling all over me?"

Arya was shocked. "But, my Eri-poo!" she cried. "I thought you loved me!"

"I am _so_ over you," said Eragon, "I would rather share my bed with the Ra-zac, no, make that the Letheblarka, than with a slut like _you._"

Arya ground her teeth in fury.

"Rejected!" yelled Eragon gleefully. "Rejected! Re –re- re- re- rejected!" He did a little victory dance. Arya stamped her foot in frustration, and stormed off.

"It's not over, Eragon," she hissed over her shoulder. "I _will_ take your virginity!" She marched from the throne room, slamming the doors behind her.

"Who says I'm a virgin?" yelled Eragon after her.

_I do_, said Saphira.

"Eragon's a virgin?" snorted Nasuada.

"No I'm not!" said Eragon.

"Who've you ever slept with then?" Nasuada asked, raising an eyebrow. "And having dirty dreams about Murtagh doesn't count. Everyone has dirty dreams about Murtagh."

"Er…" Eragon thought desperately "…Oromis."

"That's disgusting," said Murtagh. "Elves are terrible in bed anyway, despite all the bragging. Most of them even wear lacy pink underwear, including the men. Isn't that right, Blödhgarm?"

Blödhgarm nodded, and pulled apart his blue fur to reveal a lacy pink g-string.

Nasuada was sick in a corner.

Eragon fumed. He turned to the rest of the Varden.

"Friends," Eragon yelled, lifting Brisingr into the air, "the Varden are victorious!"

"Yay!" shouted the Varden. "Urgle urgle," said the Urgals.

"On this day, I, Eragon, have freed you all by slaying Galbatorix with my own hand, and I claim place as new Emperor!"

"Actually," said Murtagh, who was now polishing his breastplate with his three-o'-clock shadow, "I'm the one that killed all the guards. And Galbatorix. And the magicians. And the dragon. And the entire army, single-handedly."

"All hail Murtagh, Emperor of Alagaesia!" yelled the Varden. "UrgleurgleRAWRurgleurgle!" roared the Urgals.

"No," said Eragon, "I said _I_ was going to be-"

"ALL HAIL MURTAGH!"

"URGLE URGLE RAWRRR!"

"I don't think you understa-"

"ALL HAIL MURTAGH!"

"URGLE URGLE RAWR!"

"Will you all just shut u-"

"ALL HAIL MURTAGH! ALL HAIL MURTAGH!"

"URGLE URGLE RAWRarararraWR!"

"Oh, for the love of -"

"ALL HAIL MURTAGH! ALL HAIL MURTAGH! ALL HAIL MURTAGH!"

"URGLE URGLE RAWR URGLE URGLE RAAAAAAWWwwwWWwrrRRR!"

Eragon gave up.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

_How the hell did I end up here?_ thought Eragon miserably, as Murtagh strode down the aisle in his coronation robes, to impressive organ music. He glanced around at the motley congregation which filled the palace hall. They were all beaming, extremely pleased with their choice of new Emperor (well, as far as he could tell, the Urgals and Blödhgarm were smiling too – it was difficult to tell under all that fur).

Great.

He caught Arya's eye and she gave him a seductive wink. Was it just him or was her dress shrinking as he watched? Eragon's eyes popped as to his horror, her skirt rode up to top of her thigh, Arya leering creepily at him all the while.

She was wearing suspenders.

He fixed his attentions pointedly on the coronation as her bodice disintegrated completely. No-one else seemed to notice! What was going on? Then he realised that was because they were all drooling over Murtagh, who was wearing tight leather under the robes.

Actually, Eragon mused, Murtagh's leather was _pretty_ hot. Tight in all the right places, and –

_ERAGON!_ Saphira's voice echoed through the room, _STOP HAVING DIRTY THOUGHTS ABOUT MURTAGH!_

The congregation turned and stared at him, the organ grinding to a squeaky halt.

Dear God, please kill me now, thought Eragon.

"You like Murtagh?" drawled Arya. "That's kinky." She licked her lips and stroked her leg. "We should have a threesome."

Eragon buried his face in his hands.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

It was late that night, and Eragon lay asleep in his tent in the Varden camp. He snored, then rolled over and scratched his butt.

Suddenly he woke up, and peered through the darkness. Something was wrong. _Someone _had snuck inside the tent…and now they were standing over him, breathing into his face. And now…was that a _hand_ sneaking under the covers, and down-

Assassin!

He fumbled for Brisingr, _damn_! It was at the other end of the tent! With a wave of his hand, candles flared to life, illuminating the intruder.

"Hello, my darling Eri-poo," she purred.

"Holy dragon-turds, Arya!" Eragon yelped, desperately pulling his quilt up to cover his chest. "Will you _not_ do that!"

"Do what?" she said innocently. She was wearing a silk dressing gown with a _very_ low cleavage, and her bent over position afforded Eragon a view he _really_ did not want, or like.

She still hadn't moved her hand; in fact it was gradually sneaking lower.

"Sneak up on me…like…you were going to rape me or something! And get your hand off me!"

"I only came here to make love to my beloved," she pouted, sulkily removing her hand, "and anyway…" here she gave that alarming leer he remembered from earlier, "… it's not rape if you say 'surprise'."

"You were going to _rape_ me?"

Arya straightened up with a sigh. "Since you have been alerted to my presence, it won't be consensual."

"But…I say no!" said Eragon.

"And I won't take no for an answer," replied Arya, "So tough."

Eragon squeaked in terror. Arya crawled onto the bed, and straddled him.

"Get off!" he squealed.

Arya ignored him. "This, my darling Eri-poo, is going to be the most sensual and incredible night of your life. Hold on tight, you're in for a _wild_ ride." She waved a hand, and Eragon found himself frozen to the spot, unable to contact Saphira.

Help, he thought, this isn't how I imagined I'd lose my cherry!

"Ooh, you sleep naked…_kinky!" _Arya began to undo her dressing gown, and let it slowly slip to the floor. She wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Eragon stared.

Then he screamed.

"BALD! BALD! BAAAALD! _MY EYES!"_

"What's the matter, my darling," said Arya, "Is the beauty of my naked body too blinding for your innocent human eyes?"

"BALD! BALD! BAAAAaaAaAALD!" screeched Eragon.

"Screaming already and I haven't even brought out the furry handcuffs yet," said Arya appraisingly, "I _knew_ I was good at this."

The flap of the tent was torn aside and Murtagh stumbled through, wild-eyed and brandishing Zar'roc. "What is it? I heard you screaming -"

"Oh good," interuppted Arya, "Now we can have a threesome!"

Murtagh stared at her. "GOD IN HEAVEN, WHAT IN THE NAME OF ORIK'S FOURTEEN-INCHER IS THAT?" he yelled.

"Now, that's a little bit harsh don't you think?"

"IT'S HIDEOUS! HELP ME MURTAGH!"

"WHAT IS IT, IT'S HORRIBLE!"

"Why don't you just calm down, then we can have this ménage-a-trois -"

"BALD! BALD! MY EYES!"

"OH MY GOD IT'S DISGUSTING AND BALD!"

"KILL IT! KILL IT NOW!"

Murtagh brandished Zar'roc wildly.

"Eri-poo!" Arya wailed "How could you do this to me, when I came all this way to make you a man?"

"IS IT DEAD? OH GOD SAVE ME!"

"I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE KILL IT! IT'S BALD!"

"I'M TRYING! I'M TRYING!"

"HIT IT HARDER! STAB IT! STAB IT NOW!"

Three feet of steel went straight through Arya's chest, and Eragon spluttered as a spray of blood hit him in the face.

"You'll regret this!" shrieked Arya. "You'll regret this when it's cold at night and the only thing you've got to warm your bed is Nar Gharzog the Urgal!" She collapsed in a pool of her own blood, and died.

Murtagh peeked through his fingers.

"IS IT GONE? IS IT DEAD? OH GOD SAVE ME! IT WAS BALD!"

Murtagh poked Arya's body with his foot. "Shut up, she's dead!" he said.

Eragon looked fearfully out from under the duvet. "Thank God," he sighed. Then he shrieked. "IT'S STILL BALD! BALD! MY EYES!"

"AAARGH! I DIDN'T REALISE!"

"QUICK! DO SOMETHING! IT'S HIDEOUS!"

"I'M TRYING! I'M TRYING!" Murtagh grabbed a pile of clothes and flung them over the corpse.

"YOU FOOL! THAT WAS MY GUCCI SHIRT!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE I'M TRYING TO HELP!"

"GET MY SHIRT BACK! GET IT BACK!"

Murtagh gingerly picked up the shirt.

"NO! NOOOO! IT'S BALD AGAIN! MY EYES! PUT IT BACK! PUT IT BACK!"

*ten minutes later*

"Well thank God that's all dealt with," sighed Eragon, sparing a quick glance to the body, which had been rolled in drapery and dragged to lie at the entrance to the tent.

"But…how am I supposed to get out now?" said Murtagh.

"Climb over the body?"

"And get blood on my vintage leather pyjamas? I think not!"

"I didn't know you wore leather pyjamas," said Eragon. Come to think of it, Murtagh _was_ wearing leather pyjamas. It made sense; Eragon had never seen Murtagh not wearing leather. Not that he'd mind, not seeing Murtagh in leather. In leather clothes. Or in clothes at all, for that matter.

_ERAGON, _came Saphira's voice, _WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT HAVING DIRTY THOUGHTS ABOUT MURTAGH?_

"It's quite alright," said Murtagh, "_everyone_ has dirty thoughts about me. Even I have dirty thoughts about me sometimes."

"You still don't have anywhere to sleep," said Eragon.

"Well," said Murtagh slowly, "I could always stay here…and sleep in your bed with you."

Eragon's eyes popped.

"Entirely platonically, of course," said Murtagh nonchalantly, examining his nails, "as two close heterosexual friends-slash-half-brothers one of whom just happens to be naked, and the other wearing tight leather."

Eragon nodded fervently and Murtagh slid into bed next to him.

"Isn't it a wonderful testament to the strong brotherly bond between us," said Eragon, "that we can lie here in bed together completely comfortably and not at all awkwardly?"

Murtagh smiled in agreement, and they lay like that for a while, gazing at each other in mutual contemplation of their brotherly love, until Eragon's eyes suddenly widened.

"Murtagh!" he squeaked in an unnaturally high voice, "What are you doing?"

"Sorry," said Murtagh, and removed his hand.

At that moment the flap of the tent was again ripped aside, and Nasuada ran in before promptly tripping over the roll of drapery. "What is _that?_ Is that a _body?_" She bent down and pulled aside the cloth. An arm flopped out.

"Bald," whimpered Eragon, bracing himself for Nasuada's inevitable fury.

"Oh, it's the mardy elf-bitch," she laughed, "I was hoping someone would finish her off." She straightened up, and her gaze fell on Murtagh and Eragon in bed. "WHAT the -"

Murtagh jumped out of the bed, arms up in a gesture of surrender. "I swear, this is _not_ what it looks like – okay, so maybe a little, but I can explain!"

"Please, _don't_ explain," said Nasuada exasperatedly, "It's two a.m. and I'm in no mood to hear about your homosexual incestuous exploits!" She turned to Eragon. "Come quickly, the Varden is in crisis! Blödhgarm has singlehandedly vanquished our entire supplies of roasted Elf-snacks!"

"Certainly, my lady!" Eragon drew back the duvet, magicked Brisingr to his hand and sprang out of bed in one fell swoop. "I come at once!"

Total silence reigned in the tent. Then Nasuada and Murtagh began to snort with laughter.

"What is it?" asked Eragon, confused.

"Look at it!" laughed Nasuada.

"It's tiny!" Murtagh wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.

Eragon looked down. They were right. It _was_ tiny. He felt his lower lip begin to wobble.

"Hey everybody!" Nasuada poked her head outside the tent. "Come look at this, it's hilarious!"

Within minutes the entire Varden, including Saphira, was assembled at the front of tent, and laughing their heads off. Angela was rolling around in the mud, chortling, and Nar Gharzog laughed so hard his horns fell off.

"This isn't fair," wailed Eragon, "All I ever wanted was to grow up and be a farmer just like my uncle, ploughing the fields on my tractor, and maybe even getting married to a haystack!" His pitiful sobs were drowned out by the peals of laughter from the rest of the camp. "It's not my fault it's so small! I was underfed as a child!"

"Of course you were," growled a low voice from beside him, "There's nothing wrong with its size, in fact, I find it quite…attractive."

Eragon looked down at the small and extremely hairy figure. "Oh Orik," he sniffled, "You're my only true friend! Everyone else is laughing at me or trying to rape me! Do you think I'll ever meet my dream haystack?"

"You're an attractive young man," said Orik slowly, "and I think someone like _me_ can do things for you that a haystack couldn't even _dream_ of…"

He began to run his hands up Eragon's bare leg. "I may be a dwarf," he growled seductively, "but this diminutive height has many…" he paused "…_advantages…"_

"AAAAAARGH!" yelled Eraon. "NOT AGAIN!"

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Meanwhile, not very far away, Brom stood on a hill overlooking the Varden camp, listening as the distant screams faded into the night.

"Judging by the screams, it seems Orik has finally admitted his feelings for Eragon," he mentioned to his companion.

"Oh, forget about boring old Eragon," said his friend, who was stunningly dressed in a clear plastic mini-skirt, stilettos, and bright red lipstick, despite being entirely bald. "Eragon, Schmeragon! He thinks we're dead anyway."

"Yes, he does," smiled Brom, "so now you and I, my sexy sex-bomb, can go down to Dras-Leona, get smashed, pick up a few chicks and have a naked pillow-fight-orgy with chocolate pudding!"

"That sounds absolutely _scrumptious,_ darling," replied his companion, and grinned lecherously.

"Come to my arms," growled Brom.

Brom and Galbatorix snogged passionately, and then flew off into the sunset on their pink sparkly dragon, Boris.

"_Let's do this, baby!"_

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Hope you enjoyed that! :D Ideas thanks to my brother, who's even more immature than I am, if that's humanly possible. 'Bald, bald, my eyes,' courtesy of the Spongebob movie.**

**Now please, REVIEW!**


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